


Nobody's Hothouse Flower

by prettysophist



Category: Switched at Birth (TV)
Genre: F/F, s01e30 - Street Noises Invade the House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:24:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1570817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettysophist/pseuds/prettysophist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bay and Zarra continue on to Mexico as originally planned in Street Noises Invade the House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody's Hothouse Flower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raktajinos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/gifts).



> Beta-ed by delta_dawn_rose. Mistakes remain my own.

It’s exhilarating. At first.

A car, a friend, the open road. Absolute freedom.

Then it’s terrifying.

Absolute freedom, it turns out, is absolutely not free. They need money for gas, money for food, even money for clean water in some places.

It also has a lot of unexpected rules.

Don’t this, don’t that, don’t leave money in the car. Whoever broke into the car missed her passport, thankfully, and Bay is never going to make that mistake again.

There are plenty more mistakes to make, though. Zarra’s being nice about it, mostly. A little frustrated and patronising, but nice. She calls Bay a hothouse flower, but seems to be treating her more like a poorly trained puppy. 

At least she likes puppies.

Maybe Zarra is who she might have become, in another lifetime. But in this lifetime, Zarra seems to have all the answers, and Bay doesn’t even know which questions to ask.

She’s not going to give up, though. This is her chance. If she caves now, she may never find the courage to break out of her safe little world again. 

“Are you sure about this?” Zarra asks her at the border.

Bay kisses her, quick and fierce. It’s not an answer, but it’s all she’s got right now. And just for a moment, Zarra looks at her the same way she did when she was “Bay Vasquez, _actually _”. Sceptical but a little impressed.__

“I’m nobody’s hothouse flower,” Bay says. She’s not sure which of them she’s trying to convince. Her voice cracks slightly on the last word, but she tilts her chin determinedly, and they both pretend not to notice.

* * *

They find a semi-permanent place to crash easily enough. It’s shabby and dirty and not strictly legal, but they’re more interested in adventure than luxury. 

Sharing a bed is weird, especially a bed that was never designed to be shared. With hair like hers, she’s very used to waking up with hair in her mouth, tangling over her face. But somehow it’s different when it’s Zarra’s. 

Neither of them talk about the kiss. Sometimes Bay catches Zarra looking at her as though she’s thinking about it, though.

Different hair, too hot skin. Way too many arms and legs for a single bed to accommodate.

On the phone, her parents assure her that all is forgiven. No grounding, no yelling, no consequences at all if she comes home now.

Bay doesn’t entirely believe them, though, and anyway, that’s not what this is about.

She has something to prove, still, to them and to herself. And to Zarra.

* * *

Neither of them mention Cuba again after the first time.

Perhaps Zarra lost interest in the idea. Bay hopes so. More likely, though, she’s waiting for Bay to run home so she can move on to more interesting things alone. Some days, Bay thinks about it. About Cuba, about home.

Both ideas terrify her, and so she pushes them to the back of her mind, to be examined more closely at a hazy future date. Life seems more manageable taken one day at a time.

* * *

Time passes.

Bay gets a part time job as a waitress. She’s terrible at it, but the customers are nice about it. It’s the badly-trained puppy thing again.

Some days, living together is easy. Friendly companionship, light conversation, comfortable silences.

They have private jokes and silly little rituals, and a somewhat systematic way of deciding whose turn it is to do the dishes. They flirt, sort of. Bay’s never been good at divining the difference between friendly and flirtatious, but this definitely seems flirtatious. 

Other days their cramped living space fills up with all the things they aren’t saying to each other, and those are the days Bay longs for home the most. 

Sometimes, on these days, they fight. Not about the things that are really bothering them, of course. About Zarra leaving clothes on the floor, again, or the way Bay always sets two alarms but somehow manages to sleep through both of them.

It’s not as though she does it on purpose. She’s asleep, and therefore cannot be considered responsible. The clothes thing, however, is definitely under Zarra’s control.

They have the same argument three days in a row before Bay realises that it’s starting to be fun. There’s no sting left in either of their words, and Zarra is most beautiful when she’s angry.

That day, she kisses Zarra for the second time.

She’d been thinking about it for a while, now. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that, of course. There was meant to be flowers and candlelight and a plan. It wasn’t supposed to be a mistake.

Zarra slams the door behind herself with enough force to rattle the flimsy windows.

* * *

It takes a few days for them to start talking about it.

Or yelling about it, rather.

Bay’s angry at Zarra for storming out.

Zarra’s angry at Bay for using her as “some kind of experiment”.

Which is stupid, obviously.

How does Zarra not realise what she means to her? It has been three months now. Three months living in the shittiest conditions that Bay has ever experienced, and the lustre wore off their adventure a long time ago. Without Zarra, she wouldn’t have lasted through the first week.

She’s not sure what Zarra is to her, exactly, but she’s no kind of experiment.

This time, it’s Zarra who kisses her. This time, it’s not a mistake.

* * *

They don’t go to Cuba. They will, one day, when Bay’s ready for it. Not this week, though, or this year.

This year, they’re going home. Not all the way home. Just close enough. 

They’ll get their own place, within visiting distance of Bay’s complicated extended family. 

Kathryn will be upset. John will be angry. Bay hopes that Regina, at least, will approve. Toby won’t care, and Daphne no doubt has her own relationship dramas to deal with. 

They will come around. They always do. 

Coming home doesn’t seem so scary now she knows that Zarra is coming with her. Perhaps, one day, Cuba will feel the same.


End file.
